This fucking year.
Condolences and ~ma all around, my dear Buffistas. I hope we all make it to the new post-apocolyptic new year.
My apartment problem turned out to be a clerical error. But, I am so worn down from all the bad things happening to me and the country that I just can't anymore.
I am so upset about all the loss of people famous and un-famous, and innocent that I'm afraid of the news and Facebook now.
I got a bad cough for my birthday and am home sick. I wish I had just taken my birthday off instead.
Ugh, day two of a low grade but annoying as hell headache.
My Christmas tree has one section that won't light. I have gone through each bulb and I can't figure out how to get it working. It has served me well for the last five or six years. I don't want to pack it away if it isn't going to work, I'd rather trash it and get a new one. But do I see if I can find one on sale now or wait until they first come out next year, often on sale.
Dammit. My mother would have been 76 today, and I've been wanting to talk to her (and subsequently bursting into tears) all day.
It's better than not being able to cry, which was the first year. But damn, damn, damn this hurts.
I'm so sorry, Karl. I'm glad you're past the unable to cry part, now, and may the tears be relief, and healing.
